


He Shook Me All Morning Long

by casstayinmyass



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bickering, Bottom Blore, Canon Related, Doggy Style, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Just A Regular Old Breakfast On Soldier Island, Lombard Is A Little Shit, Lombard Ships It, M/M, Smutlet, Top Armstrong, Voyeur Armstrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blore wonders why Armstrong has got the shakes. Unwilling to bring up his alcoholism, Armstrong turns the tables on Blore- or rather, turns Blore on the tables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Shook Me All Morning Long

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write some smut for these two because... I don't even have a good reason, this ship just needs some smut and cockslut!Blore.

"Where'dyou think the lovebirds have gotten to?" Blore asked with his mouthful of toast.

"How should I know?" Armstrong replied, taking a drag on his cigarette, "All Lombard said was he and _Vera_ were going out for a walk down on the beach, and he said he'd leave us to it."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't have all the answers, Blore, I'm not God."

"You bloody think you are..." Blore looked up, frowning.  Him and Armstrong were the only two left at the dining table after breakfast, after  Claythorne and Lombard had apparently "gone out for a walk by the sea"; Blore was a slow eater, and Armstrong liked to savor his coffee and cigarette in the morning. "What's got you shaking now?"

"I'm not _shaking_ ," Armstrong snapped in reply, hiding his right hand under the table as he took a sip from his cup with the left. The perks of being sober really weren't worth the uncontrollable shakes he got whenever he thought of... well... the patient. Anyway, it's not like he was going to touch a drop anytime soon... The coffee rippled in his grip. "I'm not." 

"Like hell you ain't," Blore muttered, "You nervous, or something? Eh? You the killer, Armstrong?!"

"No, you paranoid git, " Armstrong sighed, "I'm not, thank you, though I may just consider offing you if you continue pestering me."

"Oh yeah- go ahead, bite my head off for tryin' to see if you're alright."

"I'm perfectly _fine_ , Blore!"

"Then why are you _shaking_?!" Blore exclaimed, and Armstrong slammed a fist down on the table, making the remaining uncleared plates jump. Blore raised an eyebrow, and Armstrong rubbed his temples.

"I'm exhausted, that's all. Can't a man be exhausted after six murders took place around him?"

"You don't shake when you're exhausted," Blore deadpanned, finishing off the last bite of his toast with a crunch of punctuation.

"Who's the doctor here?" Armstrong huffed, and Blore scowled.

"You're a piece of work this morning, you are."

"I simply wish to enjoy my morning routine without someone... _badgering_ me!"

"Badg- about _what_ , exactly?!"

"My shaking!"

" _A-ha_ , so you admit that you _were_ shaking!"

"I-!" Armstrong clenched his jaw, and glowered over at Blore. "Sometimes I wish I never made eye contact with you in the first place on this godforsaken island."

"Yeah, well... sometimes I wish the killer had killed you off first!"

"Sometimes I wish I could just push you off one of these cliffs!

"I wish you would just have your way with me already, and get it out of your system!" Blore remarked, and Armstrong did a double take.

"I beg your pardon?!"

"What?" Blore scoffed sardonically, "Did last night not happen, all of a sudden?"

"Last night was a..." Armstrong stopped himself before going further, having at least the decency to spare the already flighty detective the humiliation.

"A mistake?" Blore finished anyway, wiping his hands on his pants and getting up, "Right. There's that. Or maybe you were just too tashered to realize you were shagging a _man_!"

"Will you _shut up_?!" Armstrong shouted, rather counter-productively. The damn shaking wouldn't _stop_ , for christsake, and if Blore kept on like this, he'd drive him to the drink, he knew he would.

"Why can't you just admit it?! We slept together! You fucked me last night, Armstrong, and you bloody _loved_ it."

"Oh, dear god," Armstrong muttered, running a hand over his face. 

"You're a bloody coward, you know that?!" Blore shouted back suddenly, "A coward, a barmpot, a right ass-"

Without warning, Armstrong dropped his cup with a clatter, and rushed Blore, grabbing him by the jaw. Blore's eyes widened wearily as the doctor pushed him up against a wall, wondering if this was it- was Armstrong really the murderer after all? There, he'd gone and done it now- pissed off the speculated Mr. Owen, and now he was going to die as a result of his big bloody mouth.  

But the hands didn't slide down to wrap around his neck... no, they remained at Blore's jaw, before dragging him in for a kiss.

Armstrong tasted like coffee and tobacco, which would have been unpleasant to Blore if it was anyone else, but Armstrong's kiss always made him feel like he was flying, drowning, all of the above. Blore, in contrast, tasted sweet; probably all the cream and sugar he put into his coffee, or all the scrounged-up preserves he caked onto his toast.

 When the doctor finally jerked out of the deep snogging session, he wasn't smiling... but he wasn't scowling anymore either.

"You're infuriating," Armstrong gritted out, lips inches away from Blore's so that they could feel their hot breath on one another's mouths, and Blore jutted out his jaw.

"Take a look in a bloody mirror sometime, you dog," he retorted, with something like a cross between contempt and affection.

Armstrong yanked Blore in for another kiss, and their teeth scraped against each other in a desperate attempt to taste more of each other. Growls of anger soon became groans of urgency, and Armstrong had his hands on Blore's belt in no time. When they _finally_ had each other's pants down just enough to their knees, Armstrong picked Blore up, spun him around, and bent him over the side of the table. _What a sight this must be,_ the detective thought with a wry smirk as Armstrong pinned him down, _the very table we all broke bread at. Imagine stuffy old Miss Brent seeing this, now... she's doubtlessly rolling over in her grave_.

With a quick suck to two fingers, Armstrong lined them up with Blore's hole.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing with those?!" Blore yelped, eyes widening, "We need oil for that!"

"I left it in my doctor's bag," Armstrong almost whined. Blore raised an expectant eyebrow, so Armstrong rolled his eyes, pulling his pants up just enough to make a jog for the oil.

"Pfft. Bloody bugger wants me to take him dry," Blore whispered to himself in the empty room, "Why don't he try shovin' a couple fingers up there, see how it feels?" With a bite to his bottom lip, Blore realized he couldn't wait much longer without his erection becoming painful, so he began just barely thrusting his cock against the leg of the table while he waited- the friction felt amazing. When Armstrong eventually got back, Blore already had one hand around himself, fisting his cock with one hand and tracing his rim with his other fingers in a soft, pressing motion.

Now, with the added oil, that made it easier to slip his fingers in, and Armstrong watched, mesmerized, as the detective fingered himself open, giving slutty little moans every time he grazed a nice spot inside himself. Never did Armstrong ever believe that watching a man act so... _needy_ , in front of him, would turn him on so badly, much less DI William Blore.

"Come on then," Blore panted, frowning back at the doctor, "You just gonna stand there watchin' me all day?"

Armstrong swallowed. That didn't sound like such a bad idea... but he knew what Blore wanted and he couldn't deny him that, so he pulled his pants back down, aligning his cock up with Blore's eager, clenching hole. With one push, he was buried balls deep inside of the wiry man below him, and he swiftly pulled out, pounding back in harder.

"Yes, that's good... right there- Armstrong, you're bloody _magic_..!"

"Shhh!" Armstrong hissed insistently.

"Nobody's in the house!" Blore snapped in reply, then moaned again at the feeling of being so full with the doctor's rather well-endowed erection. Within a few moments, both men were too far gone to stand on ceremony, and came almost simultaneously without notice. Righting themselves partially, Blore flipped over so that he was looking up. Armstrong took this opportunity to kiss the debauched Blore on his swollen lips one more time, the detective sinking into the touch and closing his eyes.

Suddenly, they heard a voice behind them.

"Well, gentlemen... pleasant morning, isn't it?" Lombard smirked, sipping some coffee nonchalantly at the entrance to the dining room.

"Good god, man!" Armstrong huffed, pulling his pants back up quickly, "Have you no, no... no decency?!" 

"Oh don't mind me, I'm just here for the strawberries," Lombard grinned, grabbing a chunk of fruit from the table and popping it into his mouth.

"Phillip!" they all heard Vera calling coyly, and Lombard chuckled.

"Toodles, fellows!" He waved as he turned, whistling to himself as he sauntered off to no doubt meet Vera down the hallway somewhere on the way to her room.

"Cocky arsehole, he is," Blore scowled, pulling up his own clothing, then he shrugged. "But at least he don't mind queers... that's more than most can say."

"We're not queers," Armstrong sighed, then shook his head as he sat back down. _Oh, what was the use? Maybe they were. Maybe it didn't even matter anymore._

"Your shaking's stopped," Blore smirked, and Armstrong smiled a little. 

"Very observant."

"A good fuck's the best prescription, eh doctor?" the detective joked, and Armstrong stifled his chuckle with one last puff on his dwindling cigarette.


End file.
